


A Violent Yet Flammable World

by smaragdbird



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: End of the World, Enemy Lovers, M/M, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 17:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14549694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/pseuds/smaragdbird
Summary: After the Inquisitor pledged the Inquisiton to the Divine's service, Samson managed to escape Skyhold amidst the chaos of relocating everything to Val Royeaux. Alone, he wanders the wilderness, keeping out of sight from the world. Until he stumbled on no other than Solas.They both vaguely remember each other from their days in the Inquisition, and Samson, who has heard about Solas's plan to destroy the world, begs to let him be a part of this cause. For him, who had been broken by the world, it only seems fitting for him to help break it in turn. Taking pity on the man, Solas accepted him and used his knowledge from his years in Corypheus's army and in Skyhold alike to gain some leverage.





	A Violent Yet Flammable World

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this ](https://dragonage-kink.dreamwidth.org/89812.html?thread=359682260) prompt

Solas was too old to be surprised and yet here he was. When he had been young humans hadn’t existed and since he had woken up he had failed to see the appeal, not just of humans but of any of the other races. He found them unappealing at best and monstrous at worst.

“You massacred my people in their temple”, Solas murmured. He was lying on his side, watching Samson as he lay next to him on his back.

“You’re only remembering that now?” Samson sounded distinctively amused. 

“There had been another way.”

“I was going to destroy the world. Why bother to preserve anything at all?”

“Was there nothing you wanted to save?” Solas asked. There had been few people he had met in this time that had interested him. The Inquisitor of course, Cole, maybe Dorian and Varric but for the most part he had found them all equally dull and ignorant, no matter if they were shem or elves, dwarves or Qunari. 

“Whenever I cared for someone I also had a hand in their destruction”, Samson replied. “Apart from Starkhaven egg and fish pie. And that wasn’t a good enough reason not to destroy the world”, he added dryly.

“Who did you destroy?” Solas asked and thought of Mythal. Of Elga’nan, of June, Falon Din, Andruil and Sylaise.

“Thrask and Maddox, both of them twice. And you?” Of course Samson had noticed. They were so similar, the two of them.

“They killed Mythal and to get revenge for her I destroyed the world”, Solas said and it sounded so trivial. 

Samson snorted. “And you’re trying to lecture me.”

“They had to die”, Solas replied and he realized how much he had grown to doubt that, had started to cast himself as a monster and them as innocents. A trick guilt had played on his memory. “I am a monster but they were worse. Nothing else could’ve erased their travesties, their genocides, their pure and shining cruelties.”

He didn’t think he could make Samson understand what they had been like. He hadn’t been there – he hadn’t seen what they had done. Tevinter and blood magic and the Qunari, the Chantry, red lyrium, the Blights and Corypheus, that all was harmless compared to them.

Instead Samson caught his eyes, his expression sombre for once as he said, “I understand what you mean.” There was no judgement in his voice and Solas believed him.

He swung his legs out of bed and picked up his clothes from the floor to get dressed. Samson was not a beautiful man, his life as a templar, on the streets, as a general and the decades of lyrium abuse had all left their mark on his body. The red lyrium gave his skin an unnatural red glow and yet it had still not broken through nor did it affect his mind.

“Is your ritual like Corypheus’ one? Do you need a sacrifice as well?” Samson asked, throwing Solas a look over his shoulder. 

Solas nodded. 

“I’ll do it.”

“No.”

Samson snorted. “Look at me. I’m half dead anyway. And your people are going to need you to lead them in that strange new world of yours. No place for a human to be.”

Solas wanted to protest but Samson was right. He was a sensible man as far as someone who was keen on destroying the world could be sensible.

/

Now they knew—maybe now the temptation would be gone. Well, not gone, Solas thought, as he remembered again what Samson had looked like under him, gasping with pleasure—but the curiosity was satisfied.

Then Samson stepped into the tent, and Solas felt as if it had never been satisfied at all.

Solas knew he should hate Samson for what he had done. For the attack on Haven, for the monstrosity of Sahrnia, for the slaughter at Mythal’s temple. For pledging his devotion, his loyalty, his life to someone as cruel and selfish as Corypheus. 

And yet when he watched Samson talk and train the elves that came in droves, treating them with respect, encouraging them, like he had done with the Red Templars, Solas couldn’t help but wonder if for Samson it had never been about Corypheus personally but what he represented: the complete annihilation of the world. After all that was why Samson had come to Solas. 

As the only Shem among Solas’ elven army Samson kept to himself. The Dalish looked down on him and the City elves were wary of him and Samson pretended not to notice either. He was consistently friendly to them and didn’t rise to any of the barbs they threw in his direction.

That did not mean there were no incidents. 

“They lashed out at you”, Solas said, inspecting the wound on Samson’s face.

“That was to be expected.” Samson shrugged. “I tried to kill them after all. Tried to kill you, too. Want to have a go?” He smirked.

“No”, Solas let go of him. “I still need you.”

Samson grinned and bowed mockingly. “As you wish.” He was about to leave when Solas asked the question he had been meaning to ask for months. 

“Why?” Why would this human devote himself so single-mindedly to his cause when his goal was so detrimental to humanity?

“I want to see this world crash and burn. I don’t care what you do with the ashes as long as you’re thorough.”

“If I make a mistake, we could all die.”

Samson shrugged “Then let us die.”

“Did you ever even care about Corypheus’ goal?”

“It sounded good enough. A world without the Veil? The Chantry would’ve been powerless in this world. The mages not feared. The Tranquil not tranquil anymore. There would’ve been no need for Templars, no more burned out lyrium-husks begging in the streets for a few coins so they could pay the smugglers for a bit of blue powder.”

As he heard him talk, Solas wondered what Samson had been like before all of this. When he had been young and kind. Only he was wrong, Samson was still kind, in his own way. He saw the destruction of this world as a mercy, a way to end all suffering.

Solas touched the bird charm that hung on a leather cord around Samson’s neck. But Samson wrapped his hand around Solas’ one and pulled it away. Solas let him. They all had their demons and not all of them came from the Fade.

/

“Last night of the earth and all that”, Samson grinned.

“Are you scared?”

Samson shook his head. “I’ll be dead. Nothing to be scared off. You’re the one who has to build a whole new world from scratch.” He looked at Solas. “Do you really think you can make it a better world?”

“I hope so.” Solas said. “What do you think?”

“I think you’ll be the worst tyrant of them all. Things that don’t die always are.”

“What would you do?”

“I’d destroy it all. The Chantry. The Qun. The Grey Wardens. Everything. Wipe their memories if you can.”

“How can they avoid making the same mistakes all over again?”

“Never said my plan was perfect. People will always make mistakes. You can’t avoid that. But you can either give them the freedom to make their own or force your mistakes upon them.”

“You don’t understand. The world was never meant to be like this. I created it.”

“And now you destroy it because you don’t like it. Rather selfish don’t you think?”

“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind you destroying the world. I just doubt your new old world will be any better than this one. You’re striving for something that will never exist. The world will always be a battlefield.”

Solas growled, growing frustrated with the circular nature of their discussion. “What would you have me do then?”

“Destroy it all but don’t try to form the ashes. Let others do it.”

Solas thought of his army waiting outside. “I fear it’s too late for that.”

“Then stop with the doubts. Do what you came to do. Don’t hesitate. Don’t look back.”

“That’s what you did.”

Samson gave a dry laugh. “Maybe don’t take my advice then. It didn’t turn out so well for me.”

“What did your soldiers think about Corypheus, about any of it?” Solas asked. He had been curious about that ever since they discovered the Red Templars. What lies could Samson told them to willingly turn themselves into abominations?

"I told them the truth." Samson said pouring himself a glass of wine. "I find that's easier, don't you think?"

Solas hesitated. "Not always."

"I find it's easier to get people to do things if they're scared."

"You assume people are frightened of the truth."

"Well." Samson turned around. "Yes." He grinned at Solas like shards of broken glass. “I didn’t give them the hope of a better life, I gave them the chance for a meaningful death. We had been lyrium husks dancing to the strings of the Chantry. There was no salvation for us.”

It was at times like this that Solas understood why so many had followed Samson with open eyes into their own demise. He wasn’t just a great leader but he also had charisma, he pulled people in. Solas himself wasn’t as immune as he liked to belief but then Samson was on his side.

/

Up until the end Solas had expected his friends to stop him. He had planned around their strengths and weaknesses and had waited for them to do the unexpected along each step of his plan. A part of him had even hoped they would stop him.

There had been setbacks and surprises of course but not enough to stop him. They had never found out about the heart of his plan: how he was about to turn every mirror into an Eluvian and once the Veil was destroyed his army would pour through the mirrors into the palaces and cathedrals of those who had treated his people with disdain and cruelty.

“Mythal’s temple, really?” Samson scoffed when he recognised the path they were taking. After the disbanding of the Inquisition it finally been abandoned by everyone. “Someone’s sentimental.”

“I call it justice”, Solas replied. “For the lives you’ve taken here.”

“And who’s going to get justice for the lives you’re about to take?” Samson asked with a shrewd grin.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t”, Samson’s smile turned cruel. “But you do. What you’re doing is justice. Believe that until you believe nothing else. Your people need a leader, not someone who doubts himself.”

“You said I’d be the worst tyrant of them all.”

“Yes, you will be. But if it makes the world a better place maybe it’ll be worth it.” Samson held Solas’ eyes for a moment before he shrugged. “Or maybe you’ll surprise me. Who knows?” 

When they entered the temple Samson looked around as if he had never seen it before. Warm sunlight softened the edges and bathed everything in gold. “It’s beautiful here”, Samson said. “I didn’t notice that last time.”

“Too busy slaughtering my people”, Solas couldn’t help but say, his tone as sharp as a sword’s edge.

Samson either hadn’t heard him or ignored him. “Maybe you goal is worthwhile if you can bring all of this back.”

Solas waited for a biting remark being added to his observation like Samson usually did but this time he seemed genuinely awed by his surroundings. 

The temple’s doors had been left open and the wind swept through the abandoned halls. Solas felt resentful and depressed by what had happened here, how even the last living remnant of his people had been destroyed by humans. He wondered what had happened to Abelas and the others. If they had joined his army they had never approached him and he had never met them by chance.

The Vir’abelasan was nothing more than a dried out basin with leaves gathering where once that waters had held the memories of Mythal’s servants.

“What would have happened if I had stepped into that?” Samson asked when they reached the well’s edge.

“You would’ve been made Mythal’s servant”, Solas replied. A part of him still waited for something to happen, for someone to stop him. The thought that he had done everything right frightened him.

“I know that”, Samson said, “but what would that have meant? Corypheus said it meant knowledge but that’s not the whole truth, is it?”

Solas shook his head. “You would’ve been subject to Mythal’s whim and if Corypheus had slipped into your body like he had undoubtedly planned, he would’ve been too.”

“But Mythal is dead.”

“She is not.”

“You said she was murdered.”

“True, but Evanuris are hard to kill even temporarily and permanently...” Solas trailed off. He looked at Samson who grinned at him.

“And yet despite the Inquisitor defeating me I still became the servant of an elven god. It seems I was born to serve tyrants.”

“I’m not a god”, Solas protested like he had done so many times before. That was a title he had never wanted and yet it seemed he could not escape it.

“The Dread Wolf is a good name for the kind of God you will be”, Samson replied. His hand found the steel bird charm on the leather cord around his neck. “Can I make a last request?”

“Suit yourself”, Solas tried to sound disinterested although his curiosity was peaked. Samson had never before asked for something for himself.

“You know where Maddox is buried?” 

Solas nodded and it was a lie. But he could find out easily enough.

“Bury me next to him. Maybe put some kind of spell over his grave so it can’t be desecrated. Maddox deserved better.”

It seemed laughable that Samson would ask him to respect the sanctity of his friend’s grave when he himself hadn’t respected Mythal’s temple. “I will”, Solas said despite not sure if he actually would. 

Samson nodded and looked around. It was as if he tried to take in everything one last time and Solas gave it to him. There was no need to hurry. Finally Samson took a deep breath and turned to Solas. “This is it?”

“This is it”, Solas confirmed. He felt a strange sense of apprehension. He knew this new world he was about to create wouldn’t be like the one he had destroyed. And maybe he had grown fond a little of this world, cruel and blood soaked as it was.

Samson turned to him and caressed his cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Ma ghilana mir din’an.” The elvish words sounded strange coming from him but Solas welcomed the reminder why he was doing this. For his people.

“Ma serannas”, he said and plunged the dagger into Samson’s chest. 

And as the Veil fell, Samson died with a smile on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Ma ghilana mir din’an - Guide me into death
> 
> Ma serannas - Thank you
> 
> Find me [ here](http://smaragdbird.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
